Mushrooms….

by cannabisara

She is eating the
Mushrooms.
Mushy potatoes inside of
Mushed worms.
The temperature of cold envelopes
As the goose bumps on her skin take turns.
A splintery tongue
A coarse consistency of old
Grainy wood.
Grosgrain fabric figure
Ingrained in a glance.
Walking to the fire;
Follows close beside her,
A silhouette shadow-dance.
She inspects the desire
Flowing through her veins.
An attempt to admire the fury
Of looming obscurity
In flames.
Tomatoes untamed, beside the
Unashamed birds.
She is sleeping with yesterday,
A passageway to what was.
No sleeves.
No protection.
Falling leaves
Offer dismal affection
To the woman who withdraws.
She is eating the
Mushrooms.
Mushy potatoes inside of
Mushed worms.

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